


The Maiden and the Machine

by Danowsawa



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: F/M, Gen, Mecha, Other, Science Fiction
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-03
Updated: 2018-01-06
Packaged: 2019-02-27 13:42:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,280
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13249422
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Danowsawa/pseuds/Danowsawa
Summary: Katsura Sugita, deep in the production of his MEKA units, grows desperate as the omnic crisis grows. On a chance viewing with his daughter, he has the wild idea to recruit gaming champions to pilot the MEKAs, their AIs hell-bent on killing any pilots too slow to rewrite their programming. But when trouble starts, Hana Song is thrust into a conflict that threatens to tear her apart.





	1. Prodigal Son

Katsura Sugita’s head rested lazily on his desk, his eyes closed as he tried his hardest to find some sort of sleep. The harder he tried, the more sleep eluded him, though, given the events of the day, he figured it was only appropriate. He often found it disdainful just how little death affected him these days.

As his head lay there, the door to his office clicked, creaking lowly as it swung open, another man walking in with a steaming mug of coffee in hand and a newspaper tucked under his arm. He groaned as he kicked the door closed, shaking his head with shame as he dropped the thick paper, catching it with his hand and tossing it upon the desk, just in front of Katsura, who slowly raised his head to examine the collection of stories.

“Well, we've hit a other milestone, K,” the man muttered as he fell into the opposing chair, sighing in relief as he leaned back, bring his mug up to his lips, “They're calling ‘em “death traps” now. Only a matter of time before some writer just crosses the gap and calls us murderers.”

Sure enough, as Katsura scanned the paper, the headline stated, in massive, bold letters, right atop the front page, “MEKA Program Kills Another; Health Department Calls MEKAs “Deathtraps””.

“Well, we can't get much lower than this,” Katsura muttered, emotionlessly, as he dropped the newspaper, leaning back in his chair and rubbing his eyes, tiredly, “I know what you're going to say, Jeong.”

The man across from him shrugged simply, as if Katsura’s words had ceased to affect him after years of repeated use, “As long as you're able to secure funding, hey, who am I to judge? I'm just here to make sure you're doing _something_. The fact that your research involves about a death a week should tell you just how desperate Korea is.”

Jeong pulled out his phone as he nursed his mug, his eyes straining downward as he picked at the screen with his thumb, “Let's see how the Tokyo papers put it; that’s always fun.”

Katsura sighed, shaking his head as he leaned forward onto his desk, fiddling with a pen, “I doubt that'll be useful in any-“

“Japan’s Once-Brightest Son Puts Another Youth To Death In Pursuit of Failure,” Jeong muttered aloud, shrugging again, “They never speak in measured terms, do they?”

Katsura eyed him plainly, “You know, how about we just ignore headlines from now on. You're not my PR guy, anyway.”

“Thank fuck for that,” Jeong grinned amusedly, slipping his phone back into his pocket, picking his leg up to rest atop his knee, growing more somber as he spoke up once again, “Any progress?”

“No,” Katsura spoke up, gravely, “I'm working on it.”

Jeong growled as he rubbed his face, “You keep saying that. Day in, day out. I don’t know how much value you place on your human subjects, but as far as I'm concerned, and as far as my government is concerned, those people are dying in the line of duty.”

He groaned exhausted, shaking his head as he began to calm himself, “You sure this is the right way to proceed?”

“I'm not going to create machines that aren't piloted by humans, if that’s what you mean,” Katsura replied with his own slightly venomous tone from his own exhaustion, “I'm already paying penance for one crime; I’m not going to make another.”

Jeong rolled his eyes as he lowered his empty mug onto the desk, reaching down to pull a cigarette from his pocket, bringing his hands and a lighter up to his mouth to light up, “I hope you're right. As long as you don't go killing more people than you're trying to save.”

Katsura leaned down over his desk lowering his head onto his hands as he tried, again, to sleep, knowing that Jeong wouldn’t allow him to do so. He was the government’s sheepdog, brought in to ensure that Katsura, a Japanese man, was truly working toward what they were financing- a mechanized army to defend Korea and her seas. Every day, Jeong questioned “K”, as he was called around here, and while the two had developed something of a friendship, Jeong had always kept a safe distance, making sure he didn’t move in close enough to breed contempt. To that end, Katsura was smart enough to know, to be sure, never to let the man in on more than he needed to know.

“Your girl doing well?” Jeong questioned quietly, blowing a plume of smoke up toward the ceiling lackadaisically.

“Mhm,” Katsura answered, without lifting his head.

“Good, good. My kids start school soon, themselves. Wife’s busy getting all their stuff ready while I’m here fifteen hours a day,” Jeong muttered, scratching at his face as he smirked childishly, “Never said I hated it though. Little rugrats.”

Katsura rolled his eyes, hidden by his downward-facing posture, thinking of how often he missed being with his own daughter. How much he regretted that his line of work included such an assortment of demons to have become more like a rogues gallery for which he constantly had to face, no matter where he lived. Such dreadful feelings he had, exacerbated ever further the longer he remained at work every day, his daughter nearly leading a life devoid of him.

While Jeong leaned his head back to rest, Katsura only perked up at the sound of the door handle turning, revealing a scrawny man, his secretary of sorts, poking his head into the office, “Eh… K? General Park is here.”

Katsura’s body jumped at the words, his head quickly turning up to eye the secretary, “ _Park_?”

Jeong’s eyes grew dim as he lazily turned his body toward the door, asking critically, “ _He’s_ the replacement?”

The secretary shrugged, “He just showed up, spouting off that he was the new Secretary of Defense and wanted to see the MEKA program for himself. See where all the funding was going.”

Katsura fell back into his chair, covering his face with both hands as he groaned, exasperatingly, “Oh fuuuck.”

Realizing the sordid air he had brought along with him, the secretary quietly slipped out as Jeong turned back in his chair, dropping his cigarette to the ground and smushing it with a foot, “Well _that_ was unexpected. I'll keep this pack with me just in case you need one.”

He juggled his coat to signal his pack of cigarettes, though without seeing him, Katsura simply shook his head, “You know I don’t smoke anymore.”

“No, but you'll start again after this meeting,” Jeong assured with a shrug, “Park’s a hardass, don’t you know?”

Katsura sighed heavily, “All too well…”

He went on mumbling to himself, complaining as he took to his feet and grabbed ahold of the light sweater that had been thrown on a nearby stool, walking toward the door as Jeong stood to go along as well, the handler sighing as the two made their way out the door. The two men strolled out from the small office into a massive airplane hangar that had, basically, been converted into a workshop. The entire MEKA production took place underneath this single roof, with testing taking place just outside on the tarmac. Katsura and Jeong walked through the scattered patches of workers, knowing exactly where they would find their visitor.

“Of all the military officials, they had to go with Park,” Katsura complained, lowly, pulling his sweater on and stuffing his hands into its pockets.

Jeong shrugged, “Makes sense. Taking a reactive stance hasn’t gotten this country all that far. No doubt the higher ups wanted to try a more proactive stance.”

“Then I have no place here,” Katsura shot back, vehemently.

His handler turned to him, his lips curling inward with indifference, “I'm sure that’s what this meeting is to decide, as much of a surprise as it was. Knowing General Park, he'll want to find out why money and soldiers are being sent _here_ , rather than the coast.”

“I won't work for any government body that controls my aims,” Katsura replied, coldly, “That’s why I left my home. If Park wants to tell me what _I_ should do, then _he_ should spend fifteen years learning robotics instead of how to pull a trigger. This military can go fuck themselves if they think guns can prevent this.”

Jeong’s forehead suddenly shrunk in disdain, “ _I'm_ in the military, so shut your mouth. No point in complaining until you hear what Park has to say; who knows, maybe he’ll like what you’re doing here.”

“They start puttin’ drugs in those cigarettes?” Katsura asked with a droll tone, leaving Jeong to roll his eyes as the engineer went on, “Park’s never liked me. If it isn’t about my ethnicity, it’s about how much funding I’m getting instead of him and his stupid nuclear arms dance.”

Jeong shrugged, “Luckily, one of you have history on their side. and public opinion. I think any number of Koreans would rather take on an Omnic with their bare hands instead of launching nuclear torpedoes into their waters. Park’s a brute though; you can’t change his mind. Probably why they sent him, just to get you to sweat a little.”

“And hurry up,” Katsura shook his head, “Three years in and I’m positive these MEKA units are the way to go. But you can’t rush when lives are on the line- especially Park’s men.”

“Well, you’d better come up with a sound argument,” Jeong warned, gesturing his head forward, “There’s our new supervisor.”

 

The two rounded a final corner, revealing the rotund-shaped, robust machine that stood in the middle of this workspace. Its legs stood still, the shape of them resulting from three years of engineering, figuring where weight would be distributed. Its two arms ending in cannons, and its most important feature- a bulbous window sitting prominently at the front of its blue body, where the pilot was to be during operation.

This was Katsura’s MEKA- Mobile Exo-Force of the Korean Army. Designed for one thing: to repel the omnics that continued to rise out from the ocean, seeking out the destruction of Korea itself.

General Park was circling the machine, staring at its every nook and cranny, his eyes squinted in examination as his hands held each other behind his back. Katsura stood at the perimeter of the workspace, in view of the general’s aides, while Jeong approached the muscular man, saluting as Park noticed the two newcomers from the corner of his eyes, rising up and staring right at Katsura.

“Sugita?” his voice rumbled deeply, escaping past the sneer of his face.

Katsura nodded.

“Would you care to explain why this program of yours has done less than _nothing_ for this conflict, yet you continue to kill off my soldiers?” Park’s face grimaced, “I believe the number was in the hundreds?”

Katsura turned to Jeong, who remained saluting as he spoke up, “Sir, as Sugita’s overseer, I can assure you-“

“No,” Park ordered, causing Jeong to jump in surprise, “I want to hear it from the Jjokbari himself.”

Katsura’s eyes dipped low, having grown accustomed to such derogatory terms in his time here. It didn’t faze him, though he was deep in thought as he subtly tried to work up an explanation in his mind that would get this man off his back; being a surprise inspection, he had no idea, and no time to come up with a presentation or anything- he’d always been slow on his wit, rather choosing to prepare, and over-prepare, when possible.

He shrugged as he stepped toward the General, passing Jeong and his saluting arm, before approaching the curving shell of the MEKA unit, looking into the transparent window that housed the cockpit, “I never allowed any soldier in here that wasn’t aware of the risks. Every last one of them understood them, and chose to die for their country in the pursuit of-“

“Oh, spare me the patriotism, Jjokbari; we both know you’re only here because those goons back home wanted you gone,” Park scoffed.

Katsura gave him a sidelong glance, a steady anger brimming within him as his body turned to face him, “What you see, here, is the result of years of tireless labor and engineering; the perfect machine, capable of winning this war. It’s an AI-integrated vehicle, able to keep pace with any omnic that opposes it; it writes millions of lines of code in mere seconds, allowing it to think as fast as, if not faster, than the omnics were facing from the South China Sea.”

Unimpressed, Park eyed him cynically, “So why the holdup if these are going to “win” this war?”

Katsura lowered his shoulders, rubbing his arm, “Because, when I was asked to come here to build them, I made it clear, under one single stipulation- there had to be a human being piloting these things. You give a machine total freedom to roam and think for itself, that’s what gets you wars like this one in the first place.”

He paused for a moment, thinking over his next words carefully, “Unfortunately, every time we put a pilot into one of these MEKAs, the machines don’t exactly…cooperate.”

Park’s eyes narrowed, disdainfully, “So you’re-“

“Doing my job? Yes,” Katsura answered, “As long as _your_ government keeps me busy and financed- They understand what’s going on here. They know what’s on the line. They know what these things can do…if we get them right.”

Park grumbled, eyeing Jeong with a slight rolling of the eyes, “Oh, put that hand down!”

Jeong obeyed immediately, whipping his arm down and to his side before slouching, only slightly, as Park returned his attention to Katsura, “So what’s the issue with the pilots? By my last count, two hundred and nineteen soldiers- _my_ soldiers- have died at _your_ direction. Sugita, you’d better explain _that_! That one back in January- the- the corporal! He hadn’t much of anything left to examine by the coroner!”

As though subtly making a swipe in retaliation, Katsura replied evenly, “Corporal Chun Dae-Hyeun volunteered after we had made a breakthrough regarding the positronic differentiator, January 4th. He had been training for months to pilot the MEKA; he was _not_ under my direction. He was one of our best; lasted longer than Sonu Tohyon, twenty-three, and Sargeant Pom-“

“What are you trying to prove, Jjokbari? Because if you think you value these men’s lives more than I do, you’re sorely mistaken,” Park growled with a festering anger as if he were prepared to return outside his uniform.

Katsura returned a fierce glance, “This isn’t a game. Not to me. Everybody who crawled into these things, I take every bit of responsibility for their status. Those who survive with severe injuries, and especially those who die because _I_ fucked up.”

Unimpressed, Park muttered, “What is it, exactly, you keep fucking up?”

“From what we can all tell, the AIs don’t take favorably to being piloted, it seems,” Katsura admitted blandly, still downtrodden from his last statement, “While we start each session off of a clean slate, the AI’s programming writes so fast that, regardless of what we do, they inevitably come to the conclusion that, much like a parasite within our own bodies, they don’t want them in there any longer.”

He eyed a nearby computer, “We keep all of the data servers on-site, that is, not within the MEKA unit, but there’s only so much we can do to make them slow enough for our pilots to manage, yet fast enough to compete with these omnics.”

Katsura’s eyes shut mournfully, his mind wandering back to the last test they had concluded, just the day before. He could see, so clearly, the MEKA stepping in circles as the pilot took it around- everything was working so perfectly. When instructed to exit, however, the pilot stared out the window, panicked, the hatch refusing to open. Katsura heard the quick, heavy stomping as the pilot cried out, kicking the hatch as best he could, knowing full well what was happening. In the quickest of seconds, as Katsura’s team of programmers tried desperately to override the MEKA’s AI, the machine drew back its lengthy, slender arm before shooting it back toward itself, smashing the clear glass that protected the pilot as its claw mangled the pilot’s face, sending blood flying out from the MEKA unit until, finally, the machine paused.

The scientist bowed his head, respectfully, “This is our last obstacle. and I’ve lost too many men and women to stop now.”

General Park scoffed, shaking his head, “Sounds like a case where they would have all been better off doing something useful to end this war, not helping a madman get his kicks. Of all the solutions, I’m appalled that _you_ manage to be the ‘solution’ that receives the most funds. Obviously, my predecessor didn’t share much before his untimely death, but surely, he was insane to think that having soldiers die, here, was worth more than dying, heroically, out there.”

Jeong turned to Katsura, worriedly, knowing what the scientist would say next. What he would _have_ to say. It was a desperate tactic that he had been forced to use time and time again whenever he encountered his doubters, and General Park was the most belligerent of them all. Despite that, however, his timing was impeccable:

Park shook his head, turning toward his two aides, “I can’t believe this. What makes this Jjokbari so special in the eyes of the government?”

Katsura’s head lowered ever so subtly, his eyes just barely peering up toward the general as his voice escaped him, carrying the unmistakable air of venom as he spoke up, quietly.

“Because, the omnics you’re fighting? I built them. I know them. and I know what it will take to defeat them.”

* * *

 

“Well, that went better than I could have expected,” Jeong yammered absently as he followed Katsuta back into his office, “I was expecting blood though, so…”

Katsura shook his head as he reached for his coat, hanging freely from a rack, “Just because he didn't end the project right then and there doesn’t mean it won't be his first order of business when he gets back to Seoul. You said yourself the other day, we're only continuing along because the ruling faction is behind us. Take that away-“

Jeong laughed, gravelly, as he pulled out his cigarettes, “Thank god we haven't encountered an election year. Boy, we’d be fucked, huh?”

Katsura’s eyes narrowed, his head turning slowly up toward his handler, “ _We_?”

“Shut up; don’t take it as having any meaning,” Jeong groaned, earning a light smile from the scientist across the room, “You’ve got me invested. So what?”

Katsura’s grin only grew at the man’s insistence, turning away to hide his face as Jeong asked somberly, “You headin’ out?”

“Sixteen hours and an undressing in front of every one of my subordinates? Yes, I’m heading home,” Katsura complained as he fumbled in his pocket, looked down toward it as he so, confusedly, “Damn, I forgot the grocery list.”

His head fell backward as he groaned, his eyes shut tightly, giving Jeong another chuckle, “Makes you miss the old lady more, huh?”

Katsura sighed, returning his glare back to his empty hand, “No, it's just Hana’s birthday this weekend and I like to, at least, pretend I’m around more often to remember these things. She always enjoys teasing me about forgetting stuff. Pretty quick for a fifteen year old, I’d think.”

“Ah,” Jeong nodded, thinking of his own kids, “I think mine were still crawling around at that age; I honestly don’t know. Since this thing started; it's screwed up everybody’s minds, I guess.”

Katsura turned toward the door, “Well, I'd like to try my best at not missing out on my daughter just because of work. Just because my career is made on ruined lives, I’d like to think there’s at least one I’m not ending.”

He sighed a final time before pulling open the door, “See you tomorrow?”

“Eh, Park’s sidekick told me to stop up there tomorrow, so I'll probably be gone,” Jeong complained, taking an extended swig of his cigarette as he rolled his eyes, “Probably just to get my take on everything. Get some dirt on you, maybe.”

Turning toward his handler, Katsura eyed him worriedly, though Jeong only grinned, shrugging as he reached up to hold his cigarette, “If I didn’t believe in this, I wouldn’t be around. Trust me; I haven't seen anything we haven't reported.”

Katsura sighed, relieved, turning back to the door, “Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it,” Jeong replied, taking a seat in his chair in front of the desk, “Say hi to the kid for me. I'll hang out here a bit longer before sending everyone home. You have any ideas for tomorrow?”

“No,” Katsura shook his head, “I'll think of something. We'll just have to work with the AI operators, see what they can do; maybe lowering the thresholds and seeing how agile they can be.”

His eyes lowered to the ground, sadly, “Sung-Min, the boy who died the other week… I realized today that his death- It didn’t affect me like they used to.”

A pain shot through his chest as he admitted to Jeong the fact he couldn’t even admit to himself just a few hours earlier, “I've never felt so inhuman.”

Jeong shrugged, looking away in his seat as he brought his feet up onto the desk, “All the better to get into those MEKA’s minds, I suppose.”

Not receiving the reassurance he was expecting, Katsura gripped the wooden door, frustrated in himself. His lips pulled together tightly as he took a step out of the office, only stopped in his tracks by the voice of Jeong, who spoke up, lowly, but sincerely.

“If I didn’t think you could do this, I wouldn't have let my son get into one of your contraptions.”

Katsura felt his feet go numb for a moment, his grip along the door tightening for a brief second before it slid down it, falling to his side, “How's he doing, anyway?”

“Still nothing but a heartbeat,” Jeong answered, “Perk of being a military child- he's spared no expense. When I get back, we're all going to see him, cut his hair and everything. You should see him sometime.”

Katsura quickly evaded giving an answer as he replied, “I don’t think-“

“He'd be happy to know his superior came to see him,” Jeong interrupted, “He always thought it was cool you were building mechs like the ones he idolized growin’ up. That wasn’t the term he used- ‘badass’ or something, I dunno. First day he was chosen, he was like a child at Christmas.”

Katsura’s eyes fell, his hand tugging at the knob of the door, “Childhood heroes are never what you think they are.”

“Maybe not,” Jeong shrugged, pulling his arm up to his face for another lazy swig of his cigarette, sighing deeply as smoke flew from is nostrils, “Still made him happier than I’d ever seen.”

Taken hold by the tense silence, Katsura bit his lip as he remained by the door, staring down at the floor beneath his feet, concentrating on nothing in particular, lest his mind grow to become enclosed by the time he returned home. Jeong seemed to notice something wrong with the air, his head shaking as he leaned forward to to find the bottle of scotch he’d left on the table the other day.

“Anyway, you don’t need any more musings from an old pup like me. Get on home,” Jeong offered with a smile, his voice an octave higher as he clutched the ornate bottle beneath the small office table, “See you at some point, K. Park’ll come around.”

“I hope so,” came a reply as Katsura gave a solemn nod, bowing his shoulders low before turning to leave, “See you soon. Good luck.”

“Eh, heh heh,” Jeong chortled, “When’ve I ever had _that_?”


	2. Hana Sugita

"Well, that went better than I could have expected," Jeong yammered absently as he followed Katsuta back into his office.

The engineer shook his head as he reached for his coat, hanging freely from a rack, "Just because he didn't end the project right then and there doesn't mean it won't be his first order of business when he gets back to Seoul. You said yourself the other day, we're only continuing along because the ruling faction is behind us. Take that away-"

Jeong laughed, gravelly, as he pulled out his cigarettes, "Thank god we haven't encountered an election year. You headin' out?"

"Fifteen hours today? Yes, I'm heading home," Katsura mumbled as he fumbled in his pocket, looked down toward it as he so, confusedly, "Damn, I forgot the grocery list."

His head fell backward as he groaned, his eyes shut tightly, giving Jeong another chuckle, "Makes you miss the old lady more, huh?"

Katsura sighed, returning his glare back to his empty hand, "No, it's just Hana's birthday this weekend and I like to, at least, pretend I'm around more often to remember these things. She always enjoys teasing me about forgetting stuff. Pretty quick for a twelve year old."

"Ah," Jeong nodded, thinking of his own kids, "I think mine were still crawling around at that age; I honestly don't know. Since this thing started; it's screwed up everybody's minds, I guess."

Katsura turned toward the door, "Well, I'd like to try my best at not missing out on my daughter just because of work."

He sighed a final time before pulling open the door, "See you tomorrow?"

"Eh, Park's sidekick told me to stop up there tomorrow, so I'll probably be gone," Jeong complained, taking an extended swig of his cigarette as he rolled his eyes, "Probably just to get my take on everything. Get some dirt on you, maybe."

Turning toward his handler, Katsura eyed him worriedly, though Jeong only grinned, shrugging as he reached up to hold his cigarette, "If I didn't believe in this, I wouldn't be around. Trust me; I haven't seen anything we haven't reported."

Katsura sighed, relieved, turning back to the door, "Thanks."

"Don't mention it," Jeong replied, taking a seat in his chair in front of the desk, "Say hi to the kid for me. I'll hang out here a bit longer before sending everyone home. You have any ideas for tomorrow?"

"No," Katsura shook his head, "I'll think of something. We'll just have to work with the AI operators, see what they can do; maybe lowering the thresholds and seeing how agile they can be."

His eyes lowered to the ground, sadly, "Sung-Min, the boy who died the other day… I realized today that his death- It didn't affect me like they used to."

A pain shot through his chest as he admitted to Jeong the fact he couldn't even admit to himself just a few hours earlier, "I've never felt so inhuman."

Jeong shrugged, looking away in his seat as he brought his feet up onto the desk, "All the better to get into those MEKA's minds, I suppose."

Not receiving the reassurance he was expecting, Katsura gripped the wooden door, frustrated in himself. His lips pulled together tightly as he took a step out of the office, only stopped in his tracks by the voice of Jeong, who spoke up, lowly, but sincerely.

"If I didn't think you could do this, I wouldn't have let my son get into one of your contraptions."

Katsura felt his feet go numb for a moment, his grip along the door tightening for a brief second before it slid down it, falling to his side, "How's he doing, anyway?"

"Still nothing but a heartbeat," Jeong answered, "Perk of being a military child- he's spared no expense. When I get back, we're all going to see him, cut his hair and everything. You should see him sometime."

Katsura quickly evaded an answer as he answered, "I don't think-"

"He'd be happy to know his superior came to see him," Jeong interrupted.

Despite looking away, Katsura could hear the smile on the man's face as he started out once again, "Goodnight, Jeong."

"Night, K."

Katsura grunted with every step as he made it to the final steps up to his apartment, carrying two handfuls of paper bags with him, his steps growing quicker once the prospect of losing the cold groceries to the warmth occurred to him. He panted quietly as he made it to his floor, holding his head low in exhaustion, eyeing the various contents in the bags that would, eventually, become his daughter's birthday meal.

Approaching his door, he gave a swift few kicks to get his daughter's attention as he laid the bags down, his body rising up slowly with creaking joints, his breath suddenly escaping in a yawn while stretching his arms into the air. Finished with his routine, he gave a knock on the door, harder than his kicks, though after a few more moments, it still remained unopened.

He sighed, reaching into his stuffed pockets, trying to find his keys. Retrieving them with an unimpressed frown, he unlocked the door, entering the second phase of his entry as he lifted the heavy bags into the small home, his body much less willing to cooperate this time around. As he lugged the assortment of groceries past the living room area, he saw his daughter sitting at the short table, hunched over as she played a video game, the television on some sort of competition.

"H-Hana, help me out, here," Katsura grunted, finally catching his daughter's attention.

She spun her legs out from beneath the kotatsu and jumped to her feet, hurrying over to her father's side, "Why didn't you knock?!"

He eyed her disappointedly, catching her in a surprised gasp, "Did I miss it again?!"

He nodded in reply, just managing a weak grin as he continued along, leaving a few bags for Hana to carry, "Maybe one of these days you'll be more in-tune with the real world for once. I know there's not much to look at, but-"

He grunted loudly as he pulled the bags up onto the counter, growling low in relief as his arms fell to his sides, smiling, "I'd like to think I'm trying to make it better."

Hana struggled to get her own bags onto the counter, leaving her father in amusement as she did so, her body not making nearly as much noise as his body had begun to make after such things. Only in his late forties, Katsura's body aged quicker after many years of engineering work, particularly the grimy, laborious portions if it, leaving much of himself rather unsteady and achy. As Hana easily recovered from her helping, quickly rushing back to the edge of the kit hen and peering through toward the television, Katsura only shook his head with amusement.

"Didn't we have a deal?" he mused, pulling out the heavier of the groceries.

Hana frowned without looking away, "Just because I'm watching television doesn't mean I'm not attentive."

Her father nodded, "I'll remember that the next time my knocking goes unanswered. And on the night of your birthday preparations, too…"

She groaned lightly, pulling herself away and returning to his side, grabbing a large container as Katsura patted the top of the plastic to direct her. Her voice creaking under the weight, she still managed to stick it in the nearby pantry, returning to the counter, easily.

"Man, if I had my youth back, I wouldn't be sitting at the television all night," he grinned, shaking his head.

Hana eyed him sarcastically, "Oh yeah; like playing with robots all day is so much different."

Thwarted by his daughter's quick wit, Katsura acquiesced, grabbing what he could of the groceries to help his daughter out, "Did you finish your school work?"

Hana paused, biting her lower lip, which was all the answer her father needed as he continued, "Having trouble?"

She paused, mid-stride, her head lowering shamefully as Katsura approached her side, reaching out his free arm to embrace her, pulling her into him, "Hey, don't worry about it. What else are father's for, huh? Especially ones that are gone all the time."

Katsura stopped as he looked down at his daughter, his face softening sadly as she stood there, so ashamed of herself. He pulled his arm away and grappled the two boxes in her hands, reigning them in as he smiled toward her.

"Tell you what. Go get your school work ready and I'll finish this up. We'll do it together; deal?"

Hana didn't raise her head, though agreed weakly as she turned to walk toward the dining table. Katsura followed her with his eyes, his lips pulled in sadness as she took a seat, pulling a large stack of papers to her and beginning to root through it all. He turned with a quiet sigh, finishing up the cold groceries, wondering what it had been, today, that had been so troubling to his little girl.

Katsura fiddled with his phone, though remained attentive as his daughter hunched over the table, staring at her school work with a blank expression, her eyes squinted as they ran along the lines of characters, though, while she realized they were, indeed, sentences, her mind could quite understand that they were conveying thoughts and ideas that she was supposed to be reading.

Her father eyed her curiously, putting his phone away as he realized her passivity, leaning closer to look at the sheet of paper, "Need help?"

As a child, Hana had so readily been able to ask for assistance, but as she matured, she had become more ashamed of herself and her wasting more of her father's time by having to help her with such things. Katsura had learned this himself, though instead of pointing it out, he simply went on explaining, reaching a finger over to follow along the line of words.

"It's asking about Napoleon Bonaparte's Hundred Days, right?" he instructed, guidingly, though Hana only stared onto the paper without reply.

For years, she had had a difficult time when it came to concentrating, particularly when it came to schoolwork, though, as with her father knocking on the door, Hana oftentimes just simply wasn't able to concentrate on things that weren't before here, offering her a source of attention. Katsura recognized her, now, in the midst of one of her spells, and stood up, walking over toward the disc player that sat across from the table.

"This always helps, right?" he asked, rhetorically, as he selected one of the CDs, gently sliding it into the player.

As he returned to his seat, some classical music began to play, which seemed to calm his daughter down somewhat. He breathed easily as he returned to her history worksheet, reaching over to guide her along once again.

"So what would you say led to his downfall?" Katsura asked.

Hana eyed him, curiously, "Who?"

"Napoleon," he repeated, without a hint of frustration as he pointed back down to the page, "You read about his last days in class, right?"

She nodded.

"So, they're asking what you thought was the biggest reason he was defeated," Katsura explained further, his eyes narrowing curiously as he thought over the question himself, "His pride, perhaps? Maybe he was legitimately up against the whole of Europe with no other option?"

Hana continued staring at the page, with only the sound of classical music bridging the silent air around the two of them, her eyes gradually beginning to shake more and more as she tried her best to formulate some thought. Katsura, himself, was lost in his own words, and so deep in thought, he only just barely noticed his daughter beginning to cry as her head fell to the table, hidden in her arms.

"Oh, sweetheart," he muttered, attentively, as he quickly reached over to wrap his arms around her in a hug, "It's okay."

Her body jumped in time with her gentle, tearful whimpers, just able to let out, "W-Why am I so stupid?"

"Hana," Katsura replied, seriously, "You're not stupid just because-"

"I am!" she shouted back, lifting her head as if to challenge her father's words behind her teary, red face, "Don't lie and tell me I'm not! I know I'm last in my class; that everyone teases me about how I need everything explained to me fifty-gazillion times!"

Katsura watched, sadly, as his daughter buried her head into her arms again. This hadn't been the first time they had encountered a situation such as this, though it never became any easier for him to see his daughter like this. He only reached out and held her tightly, pulling her closer toward him in a hug.

"Okay, how about we take a break for a little bit. Look! You've gotten so much done!" he appraised, excitedly, pointing out the small stack of homework she had completed.

She sniffled, "Only because you helped with most of it."

"Hey now," Katsura mused, "If I hadn't any help, I wouldn't have gotten anywhere in life. Your Uncle Ryu had to help me when that hurricane nearly took out the windows, remember?"

Hana laughed, only for a small moment, in between tears, "Y-Yeah. He kept saying mom would have been better suited for coordinated tasks."

"Well," Katsura sighed, "Not all help is the best. Mom's brother didn't ever really like me, I don't think; he mostly just- you know what, now's not the time for this. Let me get some tea for us."

As he stood up and walked toward the kitchen, Hana lifted her head to follow him with her eyes, curiously, as she wiped at her face with a sleeve, "Wait, you have to finish the story!"

"I do not," Katsura reminded, invoking his paternity, "Maybe- maybe when you're older. by many years, at that."

Hana frowned, slowly turning back to her homework as the sound of classical music crossed her mind. In the background, she heard the gentle whirring of the coffee maker as her father prepared some tea for the two of them, the two sounds causing a soothing air to cross her as her eyes followed the question she was to answer.

Katsura muttered aloud, to nobody in particular, "Honestly, the things your mother let her brother get away with; I wouldn't be shocked-"

"Why did you say pride?" Hana suddenly interrupted.

Her father looked at her from across the room, confused for a moment, "What do- Oh, Napoleon?"

Hana turned her head over her shoulder toward him, "You could argue he was proud during his first rule, but his second go-round, he was just trying to survive."

Katsura stared at her for a moment, surprised as he watched his daughter wipe a sleeve across her face again, "Well, uh, I mean that's certainly a viable idea. Certainly, England and Prussia were wasting no time in making sure he was subdued."

Hana nodded as she turned back toward her homework, slowly drawing out the characters that went alongside her thoughts. Katsura sighed, silently, as he smiled toward her. He knew it wasn't easy for her to deal with her mind sometimes, but between all of her inabilities, he always knew there was a smart girl in there. He tried his best to help her concentrate, with different music or songs; sometimes something out of the blue, like the coffee maker's churning, would help bridge some gap in her thought process.

He carefully prepared their two small mugs of tea, picking them up delicately and walking over toward the table, "Alright. See? I told you."

Hana rolled her eyes without him seeing, though she still allowed a tiny smile to appear on her face out of sight. Katsura passed the small living room, just noticing the television having been left on, gently placing the mugs on the table before turning back the way he came.

"What did I say about leaving the television on without watching it?"

Hana muttered back, mocking his serious voice, "That power could be going to the war effort."

Katsura grinned, amusedly, as he reached down for the remote control, pausing as he stared at the television, curiously. It had been muted, but he could tell what was going on from the ticker at the bottom of the screen. "Korea Gaming Championship Invitational". The engineer's eyes narrowed intensely as the camera jumped to a line of people sitting at a long desk, their hands moving a mile a minute as they played, their eyes staring so intently at their screens.

Slowly, Katsura's thumb reached up the remote to unmute the television, the announcer shouting out excitedly, "-THE MATCH! 'HYRULERS' ARE SEEKING THEIR FIFTEENTH CONSECUTIVE WIN AS THEY PROGRESS TOWARD THE 'QUARRYMEN'S POINT! I'VE NEVER SEEN-"

Hana suddenly burst into the room, "Did she win?!"

"Who?" Katsura asked, curiously, as Hana skillfully ripped the remote away from him.

" !" she shouted, "I almost forgot! She's like a hometown hero from around here!"

The screen switched to a live view of the game being played between the two teams, though Katsura was far more intrigued by the skill and speed of the players themselves. Even watching the gameplay, he could tell just how many inputs were being made; the character's changing direction seemingly every millisecond as the player sought out victory.

"OOOOH! WHAT A MOVE BY A.N.H.3.4.!" shouted the announcer, "THE 'QUARRYMEN' ARE BACK ON THEIR HEELS- OH MY GOODNESS! WHAT A MOVE BY THE NEWCOMER!"

Hana squealed as the screen showed a girl with the fiercest look on her face, panning out to show the comparably panicked faces of her teammates, "That's her!"

Katsura's eyes slowly widened as he watched the flurry that took place atop this 's keyboard as her fingers burst from one key to another, her other hand even bolting away from the mouse and joining in the typing for just a brief moment before returning. His hand reached up to massage his chin, though it had the dual function of also keeping his jaw from dropping in wonderment.

"THE NEWCOMER…. ! WHAT A FLANK ON THE 'HYRULERS' END! THEY HAD THEM ON THE EDGE, BUT NOW- HOLD ON! A.N.H.3.4. IS ON HER!"

Hana rocked back and forth in her chair, excitedly, though Katsura understood very little as to what was going on. It seemed like such an overload of information to him, though as he watched, he could clearly tell who was winning the match, even as the announcer began to quiet down as the conclusion became imminent.

"OOOH! And without reinforcements, it looks like the newcomer is left out to dry! What a play, at the end, to try and force a draw, but the Quarrymen just didn't have enough left in the tank!"

Hana fell back into the chair, disappointed, crossing her arms as she frowned, "Aw, man. Looks like she's out of group competition. She'll get 'em in singles, right dad?"

Katsura turned to her, absent-mindedly, "O-Oh, yeah. Totally."

His daughter got up and walked out of the room, leaving Katsura to return his attention to the television, his eyes remaining critiquing as he watched the only girl on either team, " ", get up and walk off, leaving the others behind, angrily.

Katsura pulled out his phone, starting a text message to Jeong,

"I have an idea."


	3. Invitational & Revelation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Never thought my years on Starcraft's old Battle.net would ever amount to anything!

Hana Song was nineteen, just in her third year of competitive play, when she was finally invited to Korea's gaming invitational, which saw competition from a myriad of different games, though Hana's forte was Starcraft. She blasted a sizeable hole through the online circuits, and after a few hometown, gaming shop tournaments, she began to make a name for herself, particularly due to her bulldoggish attitude when it came to chasing victory.

Her brother had been a rather religious player when it came to gaming, and particularly Starcraft, and from a young age, Hana recalled so many memories of sneaking a peak onto the family's study, watching in awe of her brother, even if she had no idea what was going on. Finally, he invited her to give it a chance, and from then on her life was heavily focused on 'Heaven's Last D', 'Missile Defense', and her favorite, 'Helms Deep', all of which helped her feel so much more connected to her brother, especially after he had died.

Now, in a sort of homage to her brother, she had made it to the big time, finding herself wandering along the blue LED-lit hallway of the large convention center where the invitation was held. She grumbled lowly to herself as she walked, having just been eliminated from group competition. She hadn't even wanted to compete, yet the 'Quarrymen' were out a man, and in a desperate last-plea, they'd gone to Hana Song for help, or rather, . Despite not wanting to compete in the first place, was immensely competitive, and the loss nagged at her, even as she cooled down in the back hallway.

Passing some folding tables of merchandise and memorabilia, Hana's lips contorted in frustration as she thought about the match, how she could have, somehow, won, despite her teammates being so much more inept compared to her. She shook her head, sighing as she realized that her face had been wearing her emotions, and she quickly hid away her grimace as a group of people turned the corner, coming toward her.

"Well, well, well," muttered the man leading the pack, "If it isn't . I hope you're not too tired already of carrying my trophy for me; there's going to be a few more before the competition's over."

Hana eyed him pithily, recognizing him as the lead man of the "Hyrulers", the team that had eliminated her team just an hour ago, not stopping her stride as she retorted, "I guess it would be too difficult for you with both of your men hanging off either side of you."

The young man, who went under the moniker A.N.H.3.4., snickered with a dismissive shrug, turning toward one of his teammates or, more appropriately, cronies, "Listen to her go. Going right out of the competition, maybe."

His cohort sneered, throwing a rude gesture in 's direction, causing her to lower her head, angrily, "I can't wait to be the girl who beats you for once."

He laughed, shaking his head with a roll of his eyes, "You're a pipsqueak and crazy. Those guys back there probably had to bring you onto their team; who knows what insane threats you dished out at them."

Behind , a man quickly rushed up behind her, trying to catch up to her as she retorted angrily, "I'm not nearly as small as your-"

"D.va!" cried the man behind her, laughing nervously as he wrapped his arms around her, beginning to pull her away as he lazily stared toward A.N.H.'s crew, "Ha ha, sorry about that! She gets a bit riled up after a loss; I'm sure no I'll intent was meant!"

A.N.H. rolled his eyes once more, turning around and waving for his cronies to follow along, leaving and her "manager" to leave unabated, the latter pleading aloud, " ! What did I tell you about making enemies?! Do you understand how cutthroat this sport is?!"

She shrugged, both in reply, and also to pull away from his grasp, "He started it! I'm not about to crawl away from an asshole of his caliber."

Her manager, Hyun, groaned, shaking his head, "That "asshole" also has the means to get you out of the tournament, especially now, when you're so little known that nobody would bat an eye. If you're seeking out enemies, please, choose anybody else."

Hana's voice rumbled under her breath as she walked along, a pause coming across the two long enough for the manager to speak up on a different topic, "How're you feeling?"

"Shitty."

"I told you," he replied indifferent, "Your style is better suited for singles matches. You know, for your manager, you certainly give my words incredibly little credence."

Hana turned toward him, "I told you, all I needed was for you to help me get into the scene. Well, here I am in the scene."

"Yes, one of the few girls who've actually done it," Hyun acknowledged, "I know how good you are, but it's gonna scare a lot of people when they are shown that. I guess in a sense, your stunt with working your way into groups might help lower the expectations from singles, though they're still gonna be tough."

"So you don't think I can do it?" Hana questioned.

Hyun grinned, pushing his glasses up his nose, "On the contrary. I'm rather excited to see this world get turned upside down. Now, if we're done with vendettas, let's go get something to eat; I'll consider that spectacular loss as your training for the day, but you still need to do your exercises."

Hana stretched her fingers, tensing and pulling them into a fist before releasing them, repeating the process as she mused aloud, "Those wrist stretches really help, by the way."

"I hope so," Hyun sighed, nervously, "That was an expensive trip to the physical therapist. You wouldn't believe how many people still don't exercise; that's a major advantage in your column. Not that you need many of those; I've never seen anybody as fast as you are."

She winked up at him, "Not many people have been doing this since they were a kid, either. I had to be fast to kick my brother's ass!"

"True, he was a perfectionist," Hyun acknowledged, "Still, you've got talent. But enough about work; let's get back to that eating thing."

Hana's eyes dazzled, "Oh! What about that kimchi truck across the street? There were some Hearthstone players on the floor talking about it."

Solemnly, as if weighing every single consequence of this decision, Hyun nodded, "Couldn't hurt, I suppose."

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Katsura walked quickly through the hallway that sat between the sea of partitioned-off cubicles that lined the hangar in some faux attempt at some office setting while also remaining close to the training area. While most of them housed workers who worked on more technical aspects of the project, such as spacial design of the AI architecture, most of the workers here were actual programmers who wrote the immensely astronomic code that went into the AIs themselves.

At the head of this collection of manpower, Mi-na T'an sat in her office just beside the training area, right in the shadow of the MEKA unit itself. She'd been wracking her brain, as well, for a solution to the main problem that stood in everybody's way- namely, the MEKA AIs becoming aware too fast, to the point of killing their pilots, which appeared to be considered a threat by the AIs themselves. Her fingers fiddled with a lone pen on her desk as her other hand typed rhythmically, the index finger of her free hand spinning the pen around in circles as she leaned forward far enough for her face to show the blueness of the monitor upon itself.

Katsura slid to a stop just outside her cubicle, catching her attention immediately as he slid in behind her, hand raised in a calming gesture, "This is going to sound crazy."

She half-turned around in her chair, peering up at him with her eyes instead of making the effort to lift her head, "That seems to be par for the course these days."

Katsura waved his hand dismissively, "What if we went with what Jeong suggested the other month; have the MEKAs AI linked up into the cloud."

Mi-na immediately shook her head defiantly, "That's a good way to get both pilot and machine killed. If there's a single hint of lag time, your MEKA will get trounced by an omnic. Those milliseconds I have nightmares about? They matter."

"I know, I know," Katsura stammered, impulsively, before leaning forward toward her, "My daughter and I were watching a gaming thing. One of the competitors- her hands- I've never seen a person type that quickly and manage to handle peripherals. I couldn't even see her hands sometimes if the video feed's quality dipped slightly."

"Your point being?" Mi-na monotonously wondered, unimpressed.

Katsura quickly looked outside the cubicle to check if anybody was nearby before explaining, "This entire time, I've wanted pilots in there simply to keep the MEKAs in check. What if, instead, the pilots were in there to work in tandem with them?"

Mi-na's eyes narrowed with critique, "Do you realize how fast-"

"I think this one girl could do it!" Katsura pleaded, "And if she can, who knows how many of these gamers can move that fast? If they can learn how to program on the fly like that –we could make it more simplistic that way- then the lag time will hinder the AI without slowing it down, with the pilots making up those milliseconds while inside the MEKA."

He quickly reached for the pen, as well as a small stack of sticky notes, writing something as Mi-na rolled her eyes, "Still, in the heat of battle, they won't be able to-"

"Guess the number I just wrote," Katsura challenged, holding the notes against his chest.

Mi-na stared at him, still unimpressed, as he went on, "I went back and watched some of the recordings. Some of those games are just as intense, contextually. Now, guess what this one girl… , was it? Guess her actions per minute."

As if not wanting to be wrong, Mi-na groaned as she turned back toward her monitor, "Look, if you want to try something new, then you'll have to take it up with J-"

"Thirty-three thousand."

Mi-na paused for a moment, mulling Katsura's words in her head as she slowly spun her chair back around, seeing the yellow pad that held the number '33,600' on it. She almost felt a chill down her spine as she sat there, finally raising her head to see the grinning face of her director.

"I think we've got something here," he surmised, turning his head away toward the MEKA, "If they can't program, we work around that. It will give the machines less responsibility; who knows, maybe that will take pressure off the AIs. But I'm not letting any of these MEKAs walk out of here without a pilot. I'd rather the world burn, now, than have these machines running roughshod and dragging it out. This might be the solution we've needed."

Mi-na sighed, shaking her head slightly as she returned to her monitor, "You're crazy."

Katsura's eyes remained steadfast as he watched the blue machine sitting just yards away from him, his ear perking up as Mi-na spoke up again, "I like crazy. Where do we begin?"

A smirk spread wide across the engineer's face as he returned his attention to his lead programmer, "Alright, I'll see about recruiting some of those kids. Their tournament ends in two days, so that might be the earliest I can convince them, but in the meantime, I want everyone making the MEKAs has user-friendly as possible; I want virtual reality displays, everything."

"Yes, sir," Mi-na nodded, seriously, as she began to type with both hands, her mechanical keyboard clacking up a storm.

Katsura peered back over toward his giant creation, his mind floating off into his memories as he did so, the melancholy in his voice pouring out mellifluously as he spoke, quietly, to himself, "Please. let it work."


End file.
